Death On Fleet Street : A 1920s murder mystery by Anna Sayburn Lane

Author:Anna Sayburn Lane [Lane, Anna Sayburn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Starling Street Books
Published: 2025-03-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

‘How did you know?’ I whispered, glancing at the door. I stepped across the room to shut it.

‘Come for a drink and I’ll tell you. The reporters are all celebrating in the Cheshire Cheese. I’m stuck in the library going through the cuttings. I’ve got to put together a load of tedious guff about His Lordship’s glorious career. Why don’t you tell me what you saw in Lord Ravensbourne’s office, so I can write about that? And I’ll keep your little secret. Is that a deal?’

I hesitated. ‘I can’t go out. I need to find something, while they’re all out for lunch. Please, Jonathan. I’ll tell you what I can. But you have to help me. How did you know about Mrs Jameson?’

He laughed. ‘Not difficult, was it? I saw her go into the Bugle offices this morning, and recognised her from the inquest into Daisy Caldwell’s death. She was with the American ambassador, wasn’t she? I thought it was too much of a coincidence that both of you had been at the inquest into one suspicious death, then she suddenly reappeared after Lord Ravensbourne snuffed it. So, I dug into the cuttings in the library and found a whole load of articles about her investigations. Some of which mention her assistant, Miss Marjorie Swallow.’

I sighed. I’d have to start using a false name. Fame and undercover operations did not go together.

‘That makes you the best reporter in the building, then,’ I said. ‘None of the others have noticed they have a pair of private detectives working under their noses. They just see a secretary as someone to make the tea.’

He looked pleased at the compliment. ‘Talking of tea…’

‘No. I’ve got a job to do.’ I looked despairingly at the piles of paper. ‘Listen, I’ll tell you what I’m doing, if you help me. Two heads are better than one, and this is going to take me ages.’

I explained about the death notice that had been sent to Lord Ravensbourne, and how I’d gone undercover in an attempt to find out who produced it.

‘Mr Maltby had plenty of motive, and he knows how to use the linotype machine,’ I said. ‘He was boasting about it in conference. I’m looking for anything that would link him to the galley proof.’

Jonathan whistled. ‘You think the editor bumped off Lord Ravensbourne? I wouldn’t have thought he had the nerve.’

I shrugged. ‘I don’t know about the murder. But I’d like to find out if he sent that death notice.’

‘Have you been through the spike? Maltby’s old school. Ten to one he spikes everything he’s touched. And anything more than a week old will be on the spike packets in the cupboard.’

‘Thank you,’ I breathed. ‘That’s brilliant.’

We worked together. I checked through everything on the spike on Charles Maltby’s desk, while Jonathan heaved big envelopes of paper out of the cupboard. I glanced at the clock. The editor and his cronies had been gone for three quarters of an hour. Their lunch break was usually at least an hour, but with such a busy day, perhaps they’d be back early.

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